


Even The Stars Die

by invisibledeity



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, World of Ruin, and in which Prompto finds it hard to be his old joyful self again, angsty work up to sex, but they love each other - Freeform, everything is sad, in which Noctis copes with being overwhelmed after all that isolation, porn with a lotta plot, rating will go up after the next chapter, soft fic, will feature a lot of mindblowing sex in chapters 2 & 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-12-20 12:49:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11921265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisibledeity/pseuds/invisibledeity
Summary: At the end of all things, Hammerhead becomes a crossroads between the living and the dead. Here, Prompto waits for the chance to see him again, the only man he ever loved. And here, Noctis journeys from his imprisonment in Angelgard, to get one last moment of feeling alive before he travels to his death in the capital.





	1. Crossroads

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thecouchwitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecouchwitch/gifts).



> A fill for a request by thecouchwitch, who wanted some lovely mindblowing consensual sex between Prompto and Noctis. That's all still to come, but part of the massive mindblowing nature needed a bit of a high-stakes work up to it, so here you go. Right in the feels, hopefully.
> 
> Fic is named after a beautiful melancholic song by I Am Kloot.
> 
> This is how I do happy fics.

Hammerhead was the same as it had always been, and yet it was not. The clock on Takka’s wall proudly proclaimed it was one o’clock in the afternoon, ticking over in the same agonising, hollow sound Prompto had gotten so used to these past years. Outside, there was that slight greenish quality to the darkness that signified somewhere up there, beyond the plasmodia fog, lay the sun just past its zenith. The bounty list still stood overflowing; for every daemon scored through, another three had been added. Hammerhead signified tedium, futility, the dying hope of men and women still railing in vain against the darkness. It signified all these things, and yet today it meant one thing more.

            Today, Hammerhead was a crossroads between the depressing, doomed world Prompto now inhabited and the world of myths and kings. Someone was crossing between the living and the dead, right at this very moment, travelling up the long road from the sea, and Prompto was sat by the window of Takka’s old diner-turned-hunter-depot, waiting, watching, ready to step into his path the instant he arrived.

            He almost didn’t believe it when he got the message. But Talcott had no reason to lie. And so, he’d driven down from Lestallum straight away, taking Ignis with him. The two had barely spoken the entire way. Wasn’t so much to say any more, and neither wanted to get their hopes up. It seemed too unreal to be true.

            Gladiolus, of course, had made his own way there, and for this Prompto was secretly relieved. Each passing year brought new failures for the former King’s Shield, and it only soured his mood further, until now he lashed out at anything that rubbed him the wrong way. As such, he preferred to be alone.

            Prompto preferred to be alone, too, but for what had been promised today he’d gladly spend the rest of his life in the forced company of others. Just for this chance.

            He idly swilled the remaining coffee in the grotty plastic cup he’d been afforded. Few proper coffee beans remained these days, so the stuff was diluted to the point of being no more than water, but hell, he’d take it. He downed the rest of the meagre drink, and was left with the view of the parking lot, the grit under his fingernails, and the swishing sound of the daemon monitoring machines behind him.

            It was around the point where he started to doubt himself, where he began to suspect it was a false alarm and wonder if he should just take a hike on back to Lestallum, that he noticed the lights. Two sallow pinpoints, equidistant from each other, waiting outside the gates. Talcott’s truck. His pulse quickened.

            The remains of the coffee took a backseat as Prompto scrambled for the door.

            ‘He’s here.’

            Ignis and Gladiolus, falling to attention behind him. The sharp screech of chair legs on torn linoleum. His ears took in these small details that his eyes had no time for as he pushed open the diner door and all but launched himself into the parking lot.

            The figure that emerged from the passenger’s side of the car was sporting long hair and seemed to have outgrown the familiar drab black fatigues. For a moment it didn’t look like Noctis at all, and Prompto panicked. Had it been so long he didn’t recognise his best friend any more?

            The figure before him shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, like he didn’t know how to begin. Then he seemed to find his feet, and when he stepped forward, hesitantly at first, Prompto found familiarity in that motion; the slight backwards lean, the curve of the spine that betrayed earlier illness in life, the barely-perceptible pronation of the foot. When Noctis looked up at him, his eyebrows were sharper and his expression more stern, more hard-lined, but it was mercifully, undoubtedly him.

            Prompto blinked the tears from his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but his throat felt suddenly full of cotton. Luckily, Noctis filled the silence.

            ‘Hey.’

            He could have cried at the sound of that voice. It was more gruff than usual, it made Noctis seem all the more like a relic of the past, brought out from storage with a thick coating of dust. Yet he still sounded so offhand, trying to keep it casual in that way he always did when he was being bashful. The lump in Prompto’s throat melted away and his words tumbled out in a soft, quiet stream.

            ‘It’s really you.’

            Noctis looked directly at him and there was so much warmth, so much relief in those shadowed, hard-lined eyes that it damn near broke Prompto’s heart. Before he knew it he was reaching forward, arms wide, eyes scrunching up, as if that would stop the tears from falling. And fall they did, staining Noctis’s raggedy top as he was pulled into an all-encompassing hug.

            ‘It’s really you!’

            Prompto nestled his head into the crook of Noctis’s shoulder, feeling muscles tighten alongside his cheek. Noctis was smiling.

            ‘Yeah,’ was all he said, and his voice sounded all broken and pained, yet somehow happy.

            Prompto didn’t let go for the longest time. It was only when he felt Noctis’s hips readjust softly that he broke off and let him stretch.

            ‘Heh, sorry. I… I just…’

            ‘’S’okay.’ A hand on his shoulder, and a sparkle in Noctis’s eyes. Gods, that colour was so entrancing, he couldn’t believe he’d quite forgotten it these ten long years. It was like looking at a clear night sky, something so different, so much more freeing, than the heavy, green-hued, cloudy skies of their Scourge-plagued world. Prompto returned his gaze intently, and time slowed.

            Then Gladio grunted, and Noctis shifted his attentions. He greeted Gladio with a slap on the back, although his efforts were softer than Prompto remembered. There was a lack of strength there, as though his whole body was stiff. He wondered, not for the first time, where Noctis had been all these years. Another plane of reality? He’d have to ask, when the time was appropriate.

            Gladio responded by giving Noctis a huge bear hug, dropping him gently from burly arms when Noctis exhaled in a gasp too close to the edge of pain. They were all smiles, and for the first time in years, Prompto felt a little bit of that sickly, gravelly cloud of depression lift from his mind. Seven oktas of cloud coverage now, instead of the full eight.

            Noctis greeted Ignis with a gentle touch on the shoulder. Told him he’d missed him. Didn’t mention his sight. Ignis called him his King, and then so did Gladio, and because Prompto still couldn’t bear to use such reverential words for his best friend, he stood there and said nothing. Caught a flicker of a smile from Noctis. That was the right decision.

            In the lull that followed, Noctis looked round at the floodlight-illuminated arena that Hammerhead had become, and they stood together, a precipitous feeling settling over them. Something had to happen now, but nobody seemed keen to take the first step.

            Ignis spoke after a pause. ‘First thing’s first. Care for a cup of coffee?’

 

 

Noctis’s face as he drank in that first long sip of coffee was a sight to behold. It should have been more dissonant, really; Noctis had never liked coffee, and the weak-as-a-puddle-of-mud sludge they served at Takka’s diner was perhaps the worst example of the drink one could experience. But he gulped the stuff down like it was liquid gold, something akin to bliss plastering his face, scrunching the skin at the corners of his eyes into creased lines. The cubby hole where he nestled, by the diner’s grubby window where Prompto had been perched not minutes before, made him look like a small furry animal sheltering from a cold winter. And when he next spoke, his voice came out as less of a croak than before, although he still evidently had a way to go.

            ‘Talcott said something about… ten years?’

            ‘That’s correct.’

            ‘Damn… I didn’t want it to take this long.’

            ‘Nobody’s blaming you, Noct. The gods have their own ideas of what “being ready” constitutes.’

            ‘Yeah, but… I never wanted you all to suffer like this.’

            ‘You’re here now,’ Prompto said, knocking his shoulder as playfully as he could muster. The gesture seemed more childish than it had ten years ago, and he immediately regretted it, his voice falling back into a more sombre tone. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’

            He had to stop talking, because Noctis looked more than ever like he was about to cry, avoiding their attentions by gazing out the window at the nebulous sky.

            ‘He’s waiting in Insomnia, isn’t he?’

            ‘Yes.’

            Ignis’s response surprised nobody, but it was painful to watch Noctis’s expression break a little more upon hearing the confirmation. Nobody spoke the name, although Prompto imagined they all heard it in their heads as strongly as he did in his. _Ardyn_. The bastard.

            Noctis sighed in frustration, fingers tapping away on the edge of the plastic coffee cup. His nails were extraordinarily long, and all dirtied to an ashen black shade underneath, far more unkempt than Prompto’s own, and Prompto found himself fixating on this while Noctis huffed and grew more impatient by the second.

            As always, Ignis brought them back to sensibility. ‘We’re not heading straight out into the final confrontation.’

            Noctis’s mouth fell open.

            ‘You’re agitated, Noctis. And fatigued from your journey. We would do well, all of us, to rest and acclimatise, prepare ourselves properly before heading on to the capital.’

            ‘Mm, makes sense,’ Gladio said. ‘Crystal may say you’re ready, but while you’ve been caught in whatever world it dragged you into, your body’s suffered.’

            A sigh, and another series of sharp-nailed taps against plastic.

            ‘Yeah. Okay. There’s no room for error, here.’ Noctis finished up his coffee, and let them show him to the back of the garage, which had been kitted out with a bunch of mattresses and blankets; meagre bedding for a hunter’s outpost of ever-shifting numbers. There was no privacy here, but that didn’t matter. Gladio fetched some loose clothes for Noctis to rest up in, then they left him to the comfort of the soft mattress, giving him some space, for as Ignis pointed out, it was no doubt an onslaught to the senses, all this activity after such a long time.

 

 

A few hours later, Prompto found Noctis on the garage rooftop. Old habits never changed.

            ‘Hey.’

            Noctis started, but smiled when he saw it was only Prompto.

            ‘Hey.’

            ‘Couldn’t sleep?’

            ‘I’ve done enough of that to last a lifetime, I think.’

            Prompto settled into the quiet between them. He let his legs hang over the edge of the rooftop but didn’t swing them. Didn’t have the energy. He was busy thinking about all the unanswered questions he had churning about in his head.

            ‘D’you wanna talk about it? What it was like?’

            A slight bite down upon Noctis’s lip, an action that didn’t go unnoticed.

            ‘You don’t have to, if it’s… if it’s too much.’

            ‘It’s not that…’ Noctis paused, unsure how to continue. He looked down at his knees. Breathed in, out, in again. Then, eventually, letting go the tension that had been holding him back, he spoke words that Prompto had been longing to hear. ‘Gods, Prompto, I missed you so damn much.’

            Noctis leaned in, giving Prompto just enough time to move his arm before his head fell on his lap. There he nestled, catlike and content.

            It took a moment for Prompto to realise he was holding his breath. As if that would scare Noctis off like some flighty animal.

            He exhaled, nerves all ashiver, and slowly lowered his arm back down. Another moment’s decision, and he moved his hand to the crown of Noctis’s head. He’d only meant to right the stray hairs there initially, but it turned into a gentle rhythm. Noctis shifted, murmuring soft nothing-words. He couldn’t hear what he was saying properly, but it didn’t matter. He wanted to hold close the moment for as long as he would be allowed it.

            Prompto’s heart had been closed off so long, grown more hardened and brittle with each passing hour of darkness the world had been subjected to. But there was a small kernel in there, oh so fragile, but still present. Hibernating. And now, germinating, waxing full as the light of the Crystal had in Noctis’s soul. He felt the small nugget of light unfurl, and felt blessed by his King’s - _yes, his King’s_ \- presence.

            Memories of each past occasion they’d hung out on the rooftops together, in Insomnia, and en route to Altissia that final time before everything turned sour, all flooded his mind until it spun as a carousel and he felt dizzy, like he should be the one nestling in Noctis’s lap. But he carried on stroking his hair, providing the support Noctis so clearly needed. Felt like comforting a stray cat, one that had been out in the wind and weather for far too long.

            ‘Love you.’ The words escaped him before he could initiate common sense. A sinking-pit feeling in his stomach, which intensified when he heard a hitch of breath from Noctis. Then, the fragile form wrapped over his lap nestled in closer, calming him instantly.

            ‘Always at my side, huh?’ Fingers gripped into his thighs. It wasn’t a ‘Love you too,’ but it may as well have been. Noctis was never the type to say things too straightforwardly. ‘Prom, don’t… don’t leave just yet, okay?’

            Prompto smiled down at him fondly, stroked soft the tender patch of skin behind his ear.

            ‘I’m with you, Noct.’

            It was growing cold. The green glow in the sky was fading into something more brownish-red. Probably late in the evening now, and clouds of Starscourge miasma or no, as the planet turned to face away from the sun it was still susceptible to the chill of sunless space. But Prompto would stay out here as long as Noctis needed.

            Or so he imagined. Half an hour of gentle, rhythmic hair-stroking later, and he began to not only need to stretch his legs out, but need the toilet too. He shifted.

            ‘Hey… Hey, buddy?’

            ‘Mmmf?’ Noctis extricated himself from his position, wiping his mouth to stop drool from escaping onto Prompto’s slacks. Too late; he’d fallen asleep far too easily in his embrace. Prompto didn’t mind this, he only cared that he’d woken Noctis from something comfortable. A little guiltily, he said,

            ‘Wanna head back inside?’

            ‘Oh. Uh. I’d rather not. It’s too…’ He made a twisting motion with his hands. ‘Busy.’

            Right. Must be overwhelming, after all those years in solitude. Like Ignis had suggested. Prompto felt immediately grateful that Noctis wanted to spend time with him despite feeling so swamped.

            ‘No worries, man. But I do need to go sort myself out. And…’ Here he held Noctis’s hand in his, raised it just enough to inspect it. ‘We really need to do something about your fingernails.’

            This earned him a grin, and it pleased him immensely to see some of the old Noct back in control of that face again. A sly tone as Noctis said,

            ‘And we really need to do something about your goatee.’

            ‘Hey! It took me a while to grow this.’ Prompto clapped a hand protectively over the small scruff covering his chin. His mock horror simmered down and he fixed Noctis with a wry glare. ‘So give me a reason to shave it off, then.’

            Now Noctis rose fully, brushing shoulders with Prompto as he leaned in under the starless sky, and gave him a soft peck on the cheek. It was more of a nuzzle than a kiss, but it made Prompto freeze in his tracks.

            ‘If you do, I can do that more easily.’

            Prompto considered making some light-hearted comment about how Noctis needed to shave too - his beard was scratchier, less fluffy than his own, and so unkempt from his years in the Crystal - but it would have broken the moment. So instead, he leaned in for more. And Noctis stopped him with a gentle press on his breastbone.

            ‘Ah - beard first.’

            Prompto grinned. If that’s what it took to steal another kiss. ‘As you command, my liege.’

            ‘And then… can we go back outside? Still feeling a little crowded.’

            ‘Of course.’ Prompto stood up, offered his hand to the King, who took it with a grateful smile. Up above them, chill wind bent the beaten-up sign of Hammerhead’s garage with its familiar shark logo and busted typeface. Below them, the floodlights shone like a lighthouse.

            Sitting ruminating in the diner before Noctis’s arrival, Prompto had imagined Hammerhead as a meeting point between the living and the dead, only now it was starting to feel like he was the one who had been dead these past ten years, not Noctis.

            While they were here, caught between the midnight and the coming dawn, he would make the most of their time together. Bring a little light back into his heart to carry with him, before Noctis used it all up on the rest of the world.

            He pulled Noctis to his feet, and led him inside.

 


	2. Universes alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto and Noctis escape the hectic confines of Hammerhead to find solace in each other amid the darkness. Their love is scar tissue and lost futures, and they'll make it last as long as they can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, for thecouchwitch, I hope you enjoy~

It had taken Prompto months to grow that goatee. In the absence of anything better to care about, he had grown quite attached to it, and it was a weird feeling to have it shaved off.

            He peered at Noctis’s studious face as those familiar hands turned his chin this way and that, razor scraping, damp cloth pressing. They had no hot water to waste on this, and no cream or lotion to speak of, so Noct moved slowly, trying not to irritate the skin. So tender and precise, and it left Prompto feeling painfully aware of his every pore and blemish. He’d taken good care of his facial hair, but that was where it ended. No space for caring about the bags under his eyes, nor the dryness of his skin, nor the minutiae of small cuts and scratches from the daily grind.

            But Noctis didn’t seem shocked or perturbed by his no doubt horribly-aged face. He was gazing at Prompto as he worked like he was drinking him in. Once he was done, once the final press of the damp cloth had removed the last few flecks of hair from skin, he leaned forth and planted the faintest of kisses to Prompto’s chin. The movement was slow, and oh so precise, but his lips were noticeably trembling.

            Prompto smiled, hands finding his shoulders and holding him close.

            ‘Better?’

            ‘Yeah. Not scratchy any more,’ Noctis murmured, nuzzled into his throat now.

            ‘You still are.’

            ‘Ah. Think the nails were enough. For now, at least.’

            Prompto stroked his thumb along Noctis’ chin, still holding him close.

            ‘I like it, anyway. Makes you look more like a king.’

            Then, warm clothes, and back outdoors into the cool, fresh air.

 

Cotisse Haven wasn’t too far from Hammerhead, and fighting daemons was such old hat by now that neither were worried about the short hundred metre trek to reach it. Noctis was a little unsteady on his feet, hardly surprising from the years of stasis. Prompto wasn’t worried. He fell back into ready mode as naturally as breathing. He could take on any intruders, especially if it was for Noctis’s protection.

            The familiar blue glow stood out against the darkness, weaker now than it used to be but still offering protection enough. There was always the risk that a group of hunters may have claimed the spot already, but tonight they were in luck. The cool, gritty stone stood clear and open. A tent still lay fastened to the ground and a stack of unused firewood, a little soggy, lay in a jumble next to the ethereal campfire glow.

            Prompto checked over the tent, and pulled Noctis down to sit with him, placing his gun at the tent’s mouth, within arm’s reach. Noctis fell into his arms, somewhat listlessly, and leaned back comfortably against Prompto’s shoulder, staring up at the unclear sky.

            ‘Ah. Quiet. That’s… better.’ A vulnerable little sigh, and Prompto could feel his heart swell in response. Out here, they were so lost in their own world, encased in safety and silence, and there was a beauty in that, something Prompto hadn’t dared seek out since Noctis had vanished into the crystal all those years before. Hadn’t seemed right, to seek solace in nature like this. Wouldn’t have worked anyway. Alone, it would have just been depressing.

            But this, this felt right.

            ‘So.’ Noctis began slowly, testing the waters, as if scared what he might find beneath. ‘What’s it been like? These past ten years?’

            Prompto thought about it. The nights spent flicking through the old photos on his camera. How the slow deterioration of memory cards meant he had to limit his time looking these days. Watching the skies grow slowly darker month by month until there was no daylight left. Losing track of what was day and what was night, and working too much as a result. Trying to reconnect with Ignis and Gladio and not knowing what to say or how to say it.

            It was like being stuck in purgatory. Being both dead and alive, that’s what it was like, and there was no way he could articulate this that wouldn’t make Noctis feel awful.

            To avoid dredging up that mess, he just kissed him.

            At first, Noctis responded in kind – and there, another touch of heaven as soft lips teased his own - but then he moved away. Prompto leaned in to follow him, but there was a harder, more serious look in Noctis’ eyes now.

            ‘You’re avoiding the question.’

            Prompto sighed.

            ‘You’ve seen what it’s like already. All the radar trackers in Takka’s diner. Daemon hunting’s lucrative these days.’

            ‘I mean… yeah, I know. But what I mean is… What do you do now?’

            ‘Eh… Live in Lestallum these days.’ He shook his right arm out, to make a point of it. ‘All that MT tech kinda came in useful, you know, for rebuilding the power plant.’

            ‘Re…building?’

            ‘Yeah. Daemons took it out once already. I, ah, stopped ‘em the second time.’

            ‘Oh.’ The way Noctis said it, the way his eyes travelled over Prompto’s body, it made it seem as though he was searching for scars, for bodily evidence of the fight. He wasn’t going to find it. Not unless he undressed every part of him.

            ‘I don’t really wanna think about it any more.’

            ‘’Kay.’ Noctis nuzzled closer into the crook of Prompto’s shoulder, and the tension noticeably relaxed its grip over them. Muscles surrendering into Prompto’s somewhat possessive embrace. ‘We’re gonna make it right,’ Noctis murmured.

            ‘Yeah.’ Normally, Prompto said such things as a reflex, because over the years he’d noticed people got rather upset when he dropped his happy-go-lucky attitude. But it wasn’t an entirely empty sentiment this time. Maybe because he believed Noctis could do it. He breathed out, watched his breath curl upward in the chilly air to join the haven’s calm, magical smoke. Yeah, there were still the distant growls and rasps of daemons sauntering the Leiden outback, and clouds still masked the stars from view, but it wasn’t as oppressive as it usually felt.

            ‘Never knew it could be so peaceful out here.’

            ‘Just like old times,’ Noctis said.

            Almost.

            Prompto slipped his right hand down Noctis’s side, feeling under the woollen jumper for warmth and finding it, exploring, travelling further down. Noctis stopped him, a gentle grip of the wrist and he brought Prompto’s hand up to his mouth, thumb moving aside the leather cuff as he kissed the barcode reverentially.

            Prompto started apologising, because _oh shit, was I being too forward just now, is he not ready for this?_ but Noctis stopped him doing that too. Another kiss upon the sensitive skin of his wrist, and a look that begged longing, wanting.

            ‘Let’s go into the tent, first.’

            He pulled Prompto in, let him collapse against his chest, and the fall was immediate, a surge like the deepest of dives. Prompto smothered him with kisses, and Noctis did the same, touching and pressing in and fumbling over each other until neither could tell who was in more control. The only thing Prompto could think of was _how_ _fucking glorious this all was._ It had been too cold, too lonely for far too long. How many days, weeks, months, being starved of touch like this?

            Prompto spoke between kisses, trying to get words out in a rush because they were important, because Noctis _had_ to hear them. ‘I missed you.’ ‘I love you.’ ‘I want you.’ ‘Let me…’

            That last sentiment needed more elaboration. He had to prise himself off Noctis’s neck but couldn’t let himself until he’d left more of a mark there, sucking, using his teeth a little, to the fervent groans from the black-haired beauty beneath him. Or beside him. Or on top of him. It was hard to tell.

            He paused to suck in breath. Eyes shining as he looked at his love. Head falling against the tent’s canvas floor. Hands stroking Noctis’s face, twisting the end of a piece of that jet dark hair between finger and thumb. Then mussing his hair, harder, full of wanting.

            ‘Let me make you feel good.’

            Noctis, eyes heavy-lidded, body pliable and accepting. Expression easy enough to see with the back-glow of the haven’s protective glyphs.

            ‘You don’t even need to ask.’

            Prompto smirked, and playfully rolled Noctis over onto his back. Stroked tantalisingly up his thigh to his groin, then straddled him. Gyrated, causing delicious friction. _More. Let me give you more._

A slight squirm, and Noctis shuddered out breath, bucked up beneath him. Those noises he made were enough to make Prompto’s pants feel five sizes too tight.

            ‘ _Gods,_ Noct, you’re so freaking _hot.’_ And he delved his hands down again, toyed with Noctis’s zipper, thrust hands inside to cup his balls, a thrill coursing through him as he felt how hard his cock already was. He let his fingers patter up the shaft, delicately, deftly.

            ‘Ah…’ Hitched-up half-words melting as Noctis closed his eyes, biting his own lip, all caught up in bliss. ‘Feels… feels amazing…’

            Prompto pushed Noctis’ jumper up to get at his skin, his chest, taking one firm nipple between his fingertips and rolling, squeezing. A choked cry of pleasure. He rolled again. Another cry. _Too intense._ He held back. Shrugged his own jacket off to allow himself to move more easily, marvelling at how the heat and the friction between them made the night feel warm enough to bear.

            Then, back down to his cock, and Prompto jerked it upward, pulled until it was pulsing, thick and trembling. And he cinched downward, until he was near enough resting on Noctis’ shins, but still, careful not to press too hard. Those legs were tender, always had been. One wrong move and the nerve pain would ruin Noct’s evening.

 Now he bowed his head, in service, in worship, and took his king’s cock into his mouth, slowly filling up that warm cavity, right to the back of his throat. He held down his lips firm around the base and pulled upward, sucking _hard._ No time to let Noctis recover – he was back down, taking him in to the hilt, sucking again, alternating pressure as he moved along the shaft, not going all the way to the end this time, moving back and forth more rapidly.

            One hand cupped Noct’s balls as he worked, fondling, massaging in tandem with his mouth’s hungry work. The back of his throat tasted slightly sour. Precum. He swallowed, feeling raw desire blossom deep in his belly. He was doing his job well.

            He sucked deep again, then pulled his lips from Noctis’ cock with a pop. A dribble of saliva and precum still connecting them as he looked up at Noctis’ yearning face, eyes clouded over with lust. A moment longer, and disappointed surprise crossed those hazy eyes.     

            ‘No! Don’t s-stop.’

            Prompto grinned. He wasn’t planning on doing so. He just had to get a better view of what Noctis’ face was doing because _fuck,_ it was such a turn-on. He returned to his kowtowed position after a few more seconds spent basking in that glorious expression, and this time he felt Noctis’ fingers thread through his hair and pull and yank, back and forth. The jerking action betrayed Noct’s urgency entirely. He wanted this, so badly he could hardly restrain himself, and for a few moments Prompto felt utterly _used_ , and that made his cock strain all the harder against his own pants. He readjusted his knees where they dug into the canvas floor, gave himself more room for purchase, and went at it harder.

            The noises varied above him. Noctis, surprised, gasping, unravelling piece by piece beneath his lips.

            And Noctis didn’t think he’d have forgotten how he liked it, surely? Self-satisfied, Prompto opened his mouth a little wider, and licked up the tender sides of the shaft, finishing with an exaggerated curl of the tongue around the hollow of skin that lay before the head. A low moan. _There._

            Noctis pushed his head down on his cock and Prompto responded by taking him in as deep as possible, relaxing his throat, trying for more even where there was no more to take in. He buried himself on his cock and held it there, feeling the pulse. But then, Noct gripping his hair again, this time pulling him off with a shudder and dragging him, by the hair, up so that their lips met again. He didn’t seem to mind tasting himself. He was more interested in claiming every inch of Prompto’s skin he could get at. Kisses so soft and smooth even after so many years in limbo. No hard edges. Even the stubble of his beard felt like a soft brush, caressing his skin.

            Then, something hard and sharp, interrupting the pleasure. Noctis was biting at his neck, and it brought Prompto out of his dreamlike state. He blinked, recoiled ever so slightly. Wincing at the sharpness then beaming bright, eyes darting up to Noctis’ sly grin. Lips pecking back, taunting, teasing Noctis to try and bite him again.

            Noctis did, and this time a little harder, enough to make Prompto yell out. The cry descended into a laugh, and he pulled Noct’s hands round his waist, fell on top of him, gyrating and teasing, enjoying the hands travelling down and trying to free his own erection.

            Not time for that yet, though.

            He tried to delve his head back down to Noctis’ lap.

            ‘Let me finish…’

            ‘No, wait. I – I want it to be good for you, too.’

            ‘It is. It’s okay, I wanna…’

            A finger to his lips to shush him.

            ‘Prom. Sit back.’

            He did so. Noctis propped himself up until he was sitting too, facing him directly, pants still yanked down enough to reveal his erect cock throbbing against his stomach. He leaned forth and undid Prompto’s zipper, fumbled at underwear until Prompto got up on his knees, helped him move the fabric down. And now they knelt, facing each other as if in communion. Noctis grasped his shaft, and started to pump it. Movements a little stilted, like he was still getting used to being in control of his own body again, but that didn’t matter. It felt good. Tantalisingly so. And when he – _ah,_ when he touched it at just the right speed, just a little too slowly, like that, it made Prompto wonder if it would be enough to tick him over to orgasm all on its own.

            Was he _so_ close, already?

            Fuck that, he wasn’t waiting for Noct to finish him off first. He returned his attentions to Noct’s dick, wondering if he would be able to focus. He’d just have to. He wanted to make Noctis… to make him feel good…

            ‘Not leaving you half done.’

            A deep, panting breath from Noctis. ‘F-fine, let’s… see who can finish the other first.’

            Prompto really thought he was going to win at first, because he’d already prepped Noctis so much, he’d brought him so close, he’d…

            But he’d thoroughly underestimated his own desire. After all, it had been so long…

            ‘Oh… oh fuck… Noct…’

            His euphoria rose up like a standing wave, coursing through every vein and exacerbated nerve like it was lighting them up with electricity. He grew breathless, giddy, lightheaded like he was about to faint and Noctis _didn’t stop pumping_ , jerking him off like he was trying to pull the life force out of him and for a second Prompto forgot to stroke in return, hands falling slack around the base of Noctis’ shaft.

            When he came, he was looking directly into Noctis’ eyes, his own eyebrows knitted upward like he was begging for mercy. His brain, hopping from neuron to frenzied neuron, thinking about how much Noct’s eyes looked like galaxies, tiny nebulas of stars being born and born again and how all that raw energy of the universe was inside him, rending him apart while it sculpted new planets under its forceful gravity. For those seconds that lasted eternities, he was utterly lost to that feeling, held hostage by his own bliss.

            _Don’t cry, fucking hell, don’t cry._

It was surprisingly hard not to, so intense was the emotion. And the aftermath was immediately cosy and delicious, as warm as sinking into a soft duvet.

            Noctis gripped his arms while he recovered, patting down and stroking and hugging, forehead falling against forehead while Prompto found his breath.

            It took him a while.

            And Noctis was still hard.

            _Your turn._

He felt a smile spread across his face. Hands found Noct’s wrists where he held his shoulders, and pulled them away firmly. Forced the triumphant king onto his back. Now, again, Prompto took control, wiping the sweat-plastered hair off his cheek so he could take Noctis’s cock in his mouth once more without distraction.

            It didn’t take long to get Noctis shivering and bucking once more, groaning on the edge of release. He sounded so divine like that, and Prompto couldn’t help but hum into the sucking action.

            _Holy hell, was he getting hard again?_

‘Yes, fuck, Prom, _yes!’_

With his mouth gorged on Noctis’ cock, it was all he could do to make small keening noises in response. He had to grip Noctis’ hips tight, because the bucking became so strong it threatened to knock his jaw. And now, Noct’s thighs vibrating softly, all tight and tense and so _on the edge_. It was clear he could hardly contain himself at this point, and Prompto reintroduced the delicate side touches with his tongue on the tip, moved one hand to pump the lower shaft in tandem with his sucking until – _there,_ he felt the central shaft thicken, tendon tightening and firming up undoubtedly to the point of pain, then –

            A harried yell and Noctis fisted his hands into Prompto’s hair, held him fast, and came hot and hard.

            Prompto didn’t think he had any more left in him, but small dribbles leaked out from his cock with those last few furious moments, coating his stomach in greedy spatters while Noctis released his load down his throat. A harsh moan from his king, and a muffled noise from his own mouth as he choked with the force of it, trying not to let it spill.

            It was bitter, so bitter, and more a shock for the fact he hadn’t done this in so long, but his insides were roaring with hot, feverish triumph and he looked up at Noctis, made a point of swallowing every last drop.

            Noctis, eyes wide and panting, like he had just finished the last leg of a punishing race. Watching Prompto like he was a gift from heaven. He was practically quaking with the aftermath of his orgasm, and Prompto felt his own body shivering in the same manner. They were _so close_ to each other, in these hushed, breathless moments. Prompto licked his lips, made sure his mouth was clean, then rose forward to plant a kiss and a gentle caress on the side of Noctis’ face. Then he flopped atop him, utterly spent.

            Meandering fingers in his hair, toying with strands, making the nerves on his scalp fizz with delicious frisson. He gave in to weightlessness, felt Noctis’ chest rise and fall with those deep breaths he was taking. For a number of minutes, they stayed that way, until Noctis grunted – that sound that meant _too heavy_ , too much on the edge of nerve pain – and Prompto shifted, rolled over to the side until he was laying on the tent’s ragged floor next to Noctis.

            He closed his eyes. Body awash with euphoria. In his mind’s eye, the sky was powder blue, gradating down to a warm pink blush near the horizon. A sliver of light from the sinking sun catching the water. Water – ah, Galdin Quay, that’s where he was. No longer dilapidated and overrun by nagas and tonberries and all manner of filthy daemons, but as it used to be, pure and serene and luscious, beckoning them in. That first night at Lachyrte Haven, before they’d met Ardyn, before everything had gone south, it echoed in his head like fizzing fireworks, and he let it resound, let the memory feed the present. Threaded his fingers through Noctis’ as they lay on the tent floor, warmed from their own body heat, exhausted from their own exertions beyond measure.

            Prompto listened to the sound of his own breath. Matched it with Noctis’. Felt completely, utterly calm.

            _At ease, soldier. Rest your weary head._

He let the muscles in his neck relax all the more completely, head knocking against Noctis’, causing a contented grunt from his partner. Gods, how he felt ten years younger. Maybe it was the lack of beard scruff – and he stroked his own chin ponderously with his free hand – or maybe it was purely the fact that Noctis was _here,_ with him, like before. He felt suddenly free, talkative, like the lid clamped tight on his emotions and memories had been released.

            ‘I used to love camping, you know? I mean, I know I always moaned about it, but…’

            ‘Yeah.’

            ‘Remember when we replaced all the seasoning with baking soda in Gladio’s cup noodles?’ Prompto laughed. ‘Ah, man. His _face_. And Iggy, when we ran out of Ebony. And oh man, remember that awesome fish you caught at Wennath Haven?’

            ‘Prom. _Prom_. Don’t.’

            Oh. Too much. He bit back his next words. Rubbed his thumb in Noctis’ palm, trying to apologise without words.

            Noctis rolled onto his side and draped his arm over Prompto’s stomach.

            ‘Sorry,’ he said, and before Prompto could shut him up and tell him _No, it’s me who should be sorry,_ he continued, ‘It’s just a lot. Still. All in one day.’

            ‘You don’t need to apologise, dude. I should’ve reined it in a bit. Wasn’t thinking.’

            They fell back to comfortable silence now, tuckered out and quietly resting together. A cool breeze wafted in through the tent’s entrance, bringing with it the sweet, organic scent of the desert.

            ‘First I’ve been happy in so long,’ Prompto said in a soft breath. Noctis said nothing, and Prompto felt like he had to explain himself a little more. ‘It’s just… the night. It gets in your veins.’

            ‘Yeah, you don’t need to worry about that, Prom. You’re… You’ve always been… Nothing but light. Really.’

            He could have cried at those words. Again with the tears… That was the thing about a powerful orgasm – it amplified every emotion for ages afterward.

            He tried to sit up, and at once his limbs felt like lead and his head span. Still so high off his own orgasm. He fell back to the floor with a wheeze.

            ‘Whew! Ah, nope. Still too exhausted to move.’

            ‘Good. Let’s stay here a while longer.’

            Noctis returned his arm to its position crossed over Prompto’s body, and, content to play little spoon, Prompto curled into him, held his hand between both his own, and dreamed that this was just part of a lazy Sunday morning in the life they should have had.


End file.
